Than foretaste of all grief unborn.

The earth to youth is a silver star

That glitters on the edge of morn,

A star! a star! a dancing star.

The fair, the mystic, happy morn!

Dawn glimmered on the gladdening sea;

Each zephyr blew an elfin horn

To echoes in felicity.

All sounds to silver rhythm ran:

Came flutings as from piping Pan

In purpled hills of Arcady!

Seaward we heard the breakers roar;

And the belated nightingales

Sang all their moonlight raptures o'er,

Enchanted still in echoing vales.

We lingered by the brightening shore;

We leapt upon the roseate strand:

The joy that in our hearts we bore

We loved, nor longed to understand.

Soft siren voices evermore

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